Forbidden Heat: Singapore Diaries

Dad's message came through at half past two in the morning. Maria had her rosary wrapped round my cock like some sort of Catholic cock ring while she recited the Lord's Prayer in Tagalog between moans. Every thrust made the crucifix bounce against her tits, Christ's tiny golden face looking properly horrified at what we were doing in His name.

"Our Father who art in heaven, putang ina, hallowed be thy, harder, papi, thy name..."

The phone buzzed. Ignored it.

"Thy kingdom come, yes, coming, thy will be done..."

Buzzed again. Then again. Then actually rang.

"Jamie," she gasped, switching to English, "You should answer your phone."

"Bit busy desecrating you here..."

She grabbed it herself, still riding me, and held it to my face. Dad's name flashing like a warning siren.

*Tokyo deal fucked. Yamamoto giving us 48 hours before he walks. Need you and Ting on noon flight. DO NOT IGNORE THIS. Thirty million at stake.*

"Fucking hell."

"What?" Maria was still moving, using the rosary to pull me deeper. The wooden beads were definitely going to leave marks.

"Tokyo. Today noon. With Ting."

She clenched hard enough to make me see stars. "That's in nine hours!"

Maria climbed off and immediately dropped to her knees, taking me in her mouth with vindictive enthusiasm. "Then I better give you something to remember on that long flight."

She proceeded to deep throat me while fingering herself and maintaining eye contact with the crucified Jesus on her nightstand. When I came, she made sure to swallow whilst doing the sign of the cross.

"Blasphemous enough for you?" she said sweetly, then grabbed her phone. "I'm sending you videos for every hour you're gone. Filthy ones. The kind where I use all my toys and scream your name."

"Maria, I'll be in business meetings."

"Perfect. Try explaining to the Japanese why you're rock hard whilst discussing quarterly projections."

---

Corporate Efficiency

Eight in the morning, our Singapore penthouse, Marina Bay. Ting stood wearing a pencil skirt and stockings with seams. She was on a Teams call with Dad, quarterly reports spread across the marble counter.

"Local revenue up fifteen percent," she said calmly, then glanced at me and, without changing expression, mouthed cock out.'

Surely not.

She pointed down, then at her mouth, all whilst saying, "The Shanghai office exceeded targets by twenty-two percent."

Fuck it. When in Singapore.

I freed myself, already half hard from the sheer insanity. Ting dropped to her knees like she was about to receive communion, took me in her mouth, and continued talking, slightly muffled, "The Q3 projections look extremely promising."

"What was that?" Dad's voice from the laptop.

She pulled off briefly. "Sorry, having coffee. Very hot. As I was saying..."

Then back down, working me with her tongue whilst rattling off statistics. I gripped the counter, trying not to groan as she hummed approvingly around my cock whenever Dad mentioned good numbers.

"Excellent work, Ting. Is Jamie ready for Tokyo?"

She deep throated me, held it, then pulled off with a subtle pop. "He'll definitely rise to the occasion."

"Good. The Yamamoto daughters are overseeing this personally. They're... unconventional."

"How unconventional?" I managed to ask, trying to sound normal while my stepmother's tongue did things that would make a pornstar take notes.

"Let's just say the last negotiation team came back with half the deal we wanted and wouldn't explain why. One of them joined a monastery."

The call ended. Ting stood, wiped her mouth delicately with her finger, then licked it clean.

"Changi Airport, ninety minutes. Try to look less fucked-out."

"Bit difficult when you've just..."

"Please go shower. Cold one."

I gave the cold shower five brutal minutes, but judging by the stubborn hardness, Maria's prediction was holding true.

"And Jamie?" Ting glanced down at my still-hard cock as I walked past. "Save some energy. If the Yamamoto daughters are involved, from what I've heard, we'll need every weapon in our arsenal."

---

The Mile-High Negotiation

The drive to Changi was twenty minutes of Ting speed-reading contracts while I tried to ignore Maria's escalating texts. She'd already sent two videos...one from her morning shower, another filmed in what appeared to be a church.

"She's fingering herself at Sunday service," I muttered.

"During or after?"

"During. Can hear the choir."

"Enterprising girl."

First class was nearly empty. Us and some banker type who looked like he subsisted entirely on Excel sheets and moral superiority. Then our stewardess appeared.

Yuki. Japanese. Mid-twenties but dressed like jailbait's legal sister. The uniform was technically appropriate but worn in a way that suggested imminent nudity. When she bent to pour champagne, her skirt rode up enough to reveal stockings with little airplane patterns.

"Welcome aboard, Bennett-san," she purred, making my surname sound like foreplay."

My phone buzzed. Video from Maria. This time in an actual confessional.

"Everything satisfactory?" Yuki asked, absolutely clocking my sudden tent situation.

"Perfect," I croaked.

"Maria?" Ting asked without looking up from her contracts.

"Confession booth."

"Confessing or sinning?"

"Both!"

"Multi-tasking. I approve." Her hand landed on my thigh.

Two hours into the flight, Yuki had found twenty different reasons to bend over near us. Dropped her pen. Twice. Dropped the safety card. Three times. Each retrieval took geological ages and revealed more of those airplane stockings.

"I need to pee," I announced.

"I'll assist," Yuki said immediately. "The doors stick."

"Same," Ting added. "Safety in numbers."

The bathroom door clicked shut with finality.

"Eleven minutes to go until we begin meal service in First Class," Yuki announced, already stepping out of her knickers with practiced efficiency. "I've got this timed."

"Of course you have."

"Waseda Business School. We studied efficiency models." She was already arranging us like some sort of sexual chess expert. "You bend Ting-san over the sink and fuck her whilst I sit on her back, and you eat me out..."

Yuki somehow climbed onto Ting's back, facing me, legs spread impossibly wide in the confined space. I leaned forward to bury my face in her wet cunt, my tongue finding her instantly, while still driving my cock balls deep into Ting's tight grip.

"Five minutes," Yuki gasped. "Switch positions."

Now Yuki was bent over the toilet, ass up, her back arching as I pounded into her from behind. Simultaneously, I ate Ting out, who was somehow balanced on the tiny counter, one leg up against the mirror. Her cunt was slick and open under my tongue, the reflection showing everything in punishing, pornographic duplicate.

"Three more minutes. Final position."

The final position defied physics. Yuki, slick with sweat and cum, was riding me reverse cowgirl while bent forward to continue pleasuring Ting, who stood with one leg propped on the sink, grinding her throbbing clit into Yuki's hungry mouth. Every bit of turbulence drove me deeper into Yuki while she used it to rhythm her tongue work on Ting.

The captain's voice crackled: "Minor turbulence ahead..."

The plane lurched. All three of us came within seconds, trying to choke back the screams as the banker outside coughed loudly to cover the noise.

"Thirty seconds to spare," Yuki announced, straightening her uniform like she'd just finished a spreadsheet. "Exit separately. Ting-san first."

Back in my seat, trying to look less debauched, the banker leaned over.

"Young man, the Hilton has better soundproofing than the New Otani. Also, the Yamamoto daughters have particular tastes. Be prepared."

"How do you...?"

"I was on the negotiation team that came back with half a deal. I'm the one who didn't join the monastery." He returned to his tablet. "Good luck. You'll need it."

Ting was scrolling through her phone, looking satisfied. "Worth every yen," she murmured, tapping something on her screen.

"Sorry, what?"

She glanced up with that predatory smile. "Yuki. Booked her services yesterday when I confirmed our flight. Japanese efficiency at its finest."

I stared at her. "You... paid for that?"

"Of course. Did you think she just happened to be that accommodating?" Ting's laugh was soft and calculating. "Everything's better with proper planning, Jamie. Especially when the assets are this volatile." Her hand, usually so precise with contracts, closed lightly around my still-hard cock through my trousers. "Consider that your mid-flight performance review."

Christ. Even my spontaneous mile-high club moment had been orchestrated by my stepmother. It wasn't just *my* spontaneous moment; it was *her* expertly managed project.

I closed my eyes, running a quick mental calculation for the 'Jamie Bennett's Tokyo Prep' file: Logistical Efficiency was a perfect ten out of ten; the Taboo Factor clocked a solid eight out of ten; Business Application scored nine point five out of ten, given Ting had strategically booked an international sex escapade and demonstrated true genius.

That, of course, drove the Danger of Imprisonment to a terrifying ten out of ten, a major criminal offence in international airspace witnessed by a Patek wearing banker.

This wasn't a life, it was a spreadsheet full of highly illegal data points, meticulously managed by the woman now leaning over me, ostensibly to check for a crease in my suit trousers. Her hand slid over my fly.

She didn't even look up from her phone, just unzipped me, freed my still-hard cock, and put me in her mouth. She was looking at contracts while sucking me off.

"Keep that focus," she murmured against me, then pulled off as the seatbelt sign flashed. "We're landing."

---

Tokyo: The Real Negotiation

Tokyo hit us like neon-lit chaos. Driver waiting with a sign: "BENNETT - URGENT."

The Yamamoto building climbed fifty stories into the Tokyo haze. At the very top sat a corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows, the kind of view that screamed power...or at least screamed 'look how tiny the traffic looks from up here.'

Yamamoto senior stood with his three daughters. Corporate power in a five-thousand-pound suit, and his daughters arranged like some sort of sexy corporate hit squad.

"Bennett-san," he bowed slightly. "Your father promised resolution in forty-eight hours. That was yesterday. Twenty-four hours remain."

"We'll resolve this, Yamamoto-san."

Keiko, the eldest, stepped forward. All business suit and predator smile. "I know you, Bennett-san. Had my people pull your file when this deal started going sideways. Pembroke College, Cambridge. Same as me, three years after."

"Small world."

"Very small. Especially when thirty million pounds are involved." Her smile could've cut glass. "We should discuss terms. Privately. All of us."

Yumi, the middle daughter, studied Ting like a menu. "The stepmother. Interesting arrangement."

"Modern families," Ting replied smoothly.

"Very modern. Very useful for certain... negotiations."

Sakura, the youngest, just giggled. Looked maybe twenty-two but with eyes that had seen things. "Can I play too, Father?"

"You're observing only."

"I'll observe very closely." She was definitely staring at my crotch. "Very, very closely."

My phone buzzed. Didn't dare look.

"Conference room," Yamamoto senior commanded. "We discuss terms."

As we filed in, Ting whispered, "The youngest wants to ride your cock until you cry."

"Noted."

"Middle one wants me to sit on my face."

"Also noted."

"Eldest wants to watch us fuck while she reviews profit margins."

"That's weirdly specific."

"I'm good at reading people Jamie..."

Through the windows, Tokyo throbbed like something hungry. My phone kept buzzing with what I assumed were increasingly sacrilegious videos from Maria.

Yamamoto senior cleared his throat. "Your father's interpretation of our exclusivity clause is... creative. We have twenty-four hours to fix this. My daughters will manage negotiations." He stood to leave. "Don't disappoint me. Any of you."

My phone buzzed again - different tone this time. WhatsApp...I hope Tokyo is treating you well. Safe travels. D x

Christ. Diana. Now?

The door closed with the finality of a coffin lid.

Keiko smiled. "Now then, let's discuss what we really want."

Sakura locked the door.

Yumi dimmed the lights.

Keiko stood there in her black bra, black stockings disappearing into a suspender belt that had "corporate dominatrix" written all over it.

"Right," I said, trying to sound professional while my cock strained against my trousers. "So, this is how you negotiate?"

"This is how we make sure you understand the stakes," Yumi replied, producing coils of red silk rope. She ran them through her fingers like a banker counting money. "On your knees. Both of you."

"Fuck that," I started, but Sakura was already behind me, kicking my legs out with surprising strength. I hit the floor, and before I could react, Yumi had my wrists bound behind my back.

"Your safe word is 'sign the contract'," Sakura giggled, now forcing Ting to her knees beside me. My stepmother's skirt rode up her thighs as she knelt, exposing the tops of her stockings.

"Jamie," Ting hissed, though her nipples were visibly hard through her blouse as Sakura began binding her arms. "Don't let them..."

"Resist?" Keiko finished, sliding out of her skirt. "Many have tried. None have lasted the full twenty-one hours."

The sisters worked with practiced efficiency, stripping us down to our underwear while keeping us bound. The rope work was elaborate, decorative, diamond patterns that framed Ting's tits and my cock like perverted gift wrapping.

They hauled us onto the conference table, securing us face-up at opposite ends. I could turn my head just enough to see Ting spread-eagled, her expensive knickers already soaked through.

"The terms are non-negotiable," Keiko stated, completely naked now except for those stockings and heels. "Exclusive distribution rights. Southeast Asia. Sixty-forty split in our favour."

"Go fuck yourself," I managed, though the sight of three lingerie-clad Japanese women standing over us with vibrators and what looked like feather ticklers undermined my defiance.

"Oh no," Keiko smiled, trailing a vibrator down my chest toward my straining boxers. "We'll be fucking you."

Yumi cut away Ting's knickers with silver scissors, the fabric falling away to expose her completely. "Your husband thought he could outsmart us," she said, pressing a vibrator against Ting's exposed clit. "Let's see if his wife has more sense."

"Oh Christ," Ting moaned, her accent slipping as Yumi cranked the vibrator to its lowest setting. "Jamie, don't you dare sign anything."

Sakura had cut away my boxers too, my cock now standing painfully erect between us. "Look how eager he is to negotiate," she laughed, wrapping her hand around me and giving one slow stroke before releasing me completely.

"This is how it works," Keiko explained, running ice cubes around my nipples while Sakura teased my cock with feather-light touches. "We bring you to the edge of orgasm. Repeatedly. But no release until you sign."

At the other end of the table, Ting was already bucking against her restraints as Yumi worked her with cruel precision, stopping each time Ting got close.

"Fucking hell," I groaned as Sakura's tongue darted out to taste me, then pulled away just as quickly.

Through the windows, Tokyo's lights blurred as sweat dripped into my eyes. Sakura's mouth descended again, hot, and wet, bringing me right to the edge before pulling away.

"Twenty-one hours, forty minutes," Keiko announced, checking her watch. "That's how long we'll keep you both on the edge. The record is seven hours before signing. I wonder if the stepson and trophy wife will last longer?"

"Fuck you," Ting gasped, though the effect was diminished by her begging "don't stop" seconds later as Yumi brought her close again.

"Wrong," Keiko smiled, trailing her nails along my inner thighs. "We're fucking you. Quite thoroughly. Just without the satisfaction of completion."

Dad was going to murder me if I signed that contract. But as Sakura's mouth descended on me again, sucking hard before cruelly pulling away as I approached orgasm, I was starting to forget why that mattered.

"Ready to sign yet?" Keiko asked, holding the contract where I could see it while Sakura continued her exquisite torture.

"Not even close," I lied, my cock twitching helplessly in the cool air.

"Excellent," she purred. "We've barely started..."